


The Sundogs

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Astronomy, Chases, Magic, Male Friendship, New York City, Subways, Suspense, Teamwork, daniel saves merritt, merritt saves daniel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: "Two mock suns rose with the sun and followed it all through the day until sunset” -AristotleMerritt struggles to find his place within the Horsemen and considers bowing out, until Daniel leads him on an inspiring journey through New York City.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	The Sundogs

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Now You See Me or the characters therein. 
> 
> Author’s Note: Just a quick thank you to those who read, comment, and give kudos! It really makes my day to know that someone likes my work. This is another friendship piece because, while I’m always a shipper, I sometimes find their friendship more fun to write. This is set before the Horsemen's first big show in Vegas while they were still in the planning stages. Enjoy!

Fame always pulls the Horsemen apart on nights like this one.

When their shows go off without a hitch, the apartment becomes far too bland and cramped to accommodate the remaining adrenaline. That’s when they hit the bars together. They have a shared understanding that they never leave the establishment together, but, as the eldest, Merritt always waits around until the last of the group departs.

That happened five minutes ago when Jack met a bachelorette party full of squealing young boa-wearing women who insisted on showing him New York City their way. The pink feathers did suit the kid.

Merritt is now alone in a dark corner in an even darker pub and his doubts about his place in the Horsemen rise like a body of water threatening to cut off his air supply. Every day he wonders what he is doing putting his freedom on the line once again for a few young magicians and a higher power that they have yet to identify. The kids don’t understand how a few years stuffed into a six-by-eight-foot cell can destroy even the innocent. He wants to drag them all out of this contract before their lights burn out too. On this lonely night, though, putting his own oxygen mask on first is more than tempting. 

The whiskey-filled shot glass slides across the shiny wooden surface and stops at the insistence of the mentalist’s four tapping fingers. 

The repetitious rhythm halts. The mentalist peers up from his own reflection and meets the eyes of a man about his age but definitely shorter and less fit. The jaundiced lights catch the stranger’s questioning nod and he plants most of his weight on the chest-high counter with furtive confidence.

Merritt tilts his hat over his eyes and ignores the invitation. He is in no mood to deal with the demons of his past and his present all at the same time. He will be far outnumbered tonight. Just as he’s considering turning in, a second shot glass meets his fingers. He spots the same man now approaching him without invitation and swallows a lump of dread. 

“Merritt McKinney.” The man takes the empty stool next door and extends his hand. “Harvey Gallagher. We met a few years back at one of your Vegas convention shows.” 

The squinty brown eyes make Merritt shift uncomfortably in his seat. The hunched shoulders and stiff body speak of someone on edge. The mentalist dismounts from his stool carefully, as if quelling a wild animal. 

“Sorry pal, I’m not too good with faces and names.” A lie, of course. He claps the man on the arm with a forced smile. “Hey, hope you had a great time, though.” 

“Oh, I think you remember me.” The man stills. His accusatory eyes drill into Merritt’s like pointed fingers and that rigid smile slowly drops into a serious frown. “My wife’s name was Margaret. I say ‘was’ because she divorced me after you told her about my affair.” 

Merritt leans away from this threat. He collects his jacket from the back of the chair and shakes the sleeves out with a natural calm.

“Well, thanks for the update, Henry was it? I always like to hear a good happy ending. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.” He smirks, shrugging the jacket over his shoulders. Then he digs into his wallet, searching for a couple bills to tip the practically nonexistent bartender. “You tell Margaret I wish her all the best with her new beau, yeah?” 

A cocked elbow grazes his peripheral vision. Merritt ducks out of the way of the coming punch. The fist never reaches its destination, though. There is a familiar clacking sound and then Harvey struggles to break free from his sudden attachment to the stool’s interwoven metal bars. The mentalist looks up to see one of his fellow Horsemen flashing an arrogant grin.

“Oh, look at that. Guess you’re all tied up, huh? How’d that happen?” Daniel raises his eyebrows in that cocky way and flashes Merritt a snarky smirk. “Can’t trust anyone in this city.” 

Merritt begins working on his three part thank you when just as suddenly the showman about-faces and takes off, leaving Harvey to tie himself in tighter knots within the cuffs. Mouth hanging open, Merritt quickly throws a fiver on the counter before following not too far behind. The kid is a fast walker though, must be those long legs, and he catches up a half a block away. 

“Hey, Atlas! Slow down.” He jogs to match Daniel’s comfortable glide. “You saved my face back there, kid. At least let me buy you a drink.” 

Daniel stops, with obvious annoyance, at a red light. A crowd of anonymous faces surround them in wait for their turn to move forward. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, no doubt guarding them against the sudden chill, and seemingly responds to no one in particular. 

“No need, I should be thanking you. That bar was fucking boring until your superfan came along.” 

Merritt chuckles, his burden lifting in the fresh air.

“Can’t say I disagree. That’s the last time Jack gets to choose our drinking spot.” He pulls his tweed jacket closer over his chest. “Where we heading then? I know a place in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s quiet and they make a good whiskey sour.” 

Daniel halfway faces him. That’s when Merritt notices his uniquely comfortable stance. This isn’t J. Daniel Atlas, the showman. This is Danny the New Yorker who slouches on his feet and smiles easily. He melts into the crowd without even trying with his black hooded sweatshirt, black jeans, and gray sneakers. They work as perfect camouflage, even from one of his own. Merritt knows at once that this is entirely intentional. The kid spends most nights bent over show plans and criticizing the others for goofing off. Out here he lights up under the city lights and simultaneously fades happily into the shadows. 

This is a side of Daniel Merritt has never witnessed. Suddenly, the last thing he wants is to go back home alone. Daniel’s blunt response squashes that dream, though.

“I’m not thirsty anymore. Too much watered-down rum.” The light changes. Daniel throws his hood over his head. “See you at home, Merritt.” 

Just like that Daniel is merging with the massive organism of earth-toned nightwalkers. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Merritt pushes his way up to his young teammate and plucks his sweatshirt sleeve. This stops them both in a sea of moving people. Daniel’s eyebrows knit together with a mix of irritation and confusion. He pulls his sleeve out of Merritt’s grasp, rolls his eyes and starts forward. Not ready to give up just yet, the mentalist follows. 

“So, is this what you do all night, kid? Go around the city saving damsels in distress?” 

“You guessed it.” Daniel turns around, playfully walking backwards. “I left my cape and tights at home tonight. Really wanted you to have the full effect too.” 

Merritt catches up to his side again, an amused smirk warming his cold cheeks. The buildings grow in size as they move further down sixth into the heart of Midtown, holding them in place like massive bookends. Their windows glow in a calming yellow and create a checkered pattern in the black moonless sky. All in all, not a bad night to be chasing a kid with a penchant for getting lost. 

“Can’t blame a mentalist for trying right? You always disappear without a word. Hell, Jack even tried to follow you one night. Said you gave him the slip. At this point you’re a goddamn enigma, Danno, and if there is anything I like, it’s a challenge.” 

Daniel stops and looks up, seemingly gauging which turn to take, before choosing a sharp right into a Duane Reade. Merritt follows without any real thought, determined not to go home empty handed. Daniel marches straight back to the pharmacy counter and comes to a stop behind a middle-aged blonde woman who smells like a combination of expensive perfume and exhaust. He sways from foot to foot impatiently and pulls a penny from his pocket, aimlessly flipping it between the fingers of his right hand. 

“So, because I don’t latch onto mobs of drunk girls or hang on some fan’s arm, I’m the enigma? There’s more to life than getting laid, Merritt.” He snorts and casts a teasing glare at the mentalist. “I mean, you of all people should have figured that out by now.” 

Merritt chuckles at the subtle dig. The woman ahead pulls her black Calvin Klein coat closed and casts them a disapproving look. She approaches the open cashier on shaky red heels. Merritt and Daniel share an amused grin. 

“Well you may be right on that one, Danny-boy, but I’m not the one who got the lover’s card.”

He tosses the coin into the air and catches it with the knuckles of his left hand. He holds Merritt’s eyes with interest through it all.

“See, that’s why you can’t read me, Merritt. You think you already know me because of one tarot card that ‘them that see all’ chose to represent me and some stories that Henley may or may not have fabricated when, in truth, that’s all been irrelevant to the final act. One big misdirect.” He slides the coin under his palm and around until it disappears. He nods forward and Merritt spots the copper coin sticking out of the gray fur-lined collar of the woman’s coat. “Look the other way, and maybe you’ll actually learn something.” 

Merritt blinks at the sudden whiplash. All at once the woman in front steps away, penny and all, and a glassy-eyed pharmacist stares with complete disinterest. Daniel approaches the desk and speaks loudly and clearly.

“Picking up for Jesse Davis, please.” 

Merritt’s ears perk up. Jesse Davis? He’s spent six months guessing at Daniel’s real name and the kid just recites it as if it were never a secret at all. He adjusts his hat, smiles, and peers at Danny/Jesse with wide questioning eyes. 

The showman side-eyes the mentalist. “Yes, that’s my real name. Consider it a parting gift.” 

Merritt leans against the glass window, suddenly uncertain of how to proceed. Learning the kid’s real name is a huge step forward. He could walk away right now and feel like he’s achieved something real. 

Yet, he wants to follow the young man even further down this Manhattan rabbit hole. 

The pharmacist hands the kid a white bag and he trades her a fifty. She pulls a twenty from the register and drops it in Daniel’s open palm. With a simple thank you, he turns and heads back towards the exit, Merritt in tow. On the way he unwraps the mysterious medication- first from the bag and then from a little red and white box-before pulling out an inhaler, which he hurriedly stashes in a hidden pocket. This, of course, prompts a whole other set of questions. 

“You use an inhaler? Since when?”

Daniel shrugs, zipping his sweatshirt up all the way to his neck. 

Merritt is stumped. He’s never even noticed an inhaler in the kid’s possession much less seen him use one. He scans through all of Daniel’s usual routines, daily and pre-show, before settling on only one possibility. With a snap, he explains.

“In the bathroom before our shows.” He swerves between a large group of laughing young people and emerges to Daniel’s left at the corner of a busy intersection. “Huh, always figured you for a puker, but this makes more sense. Stress induced asthma?” Daniel sighs and averts his eyes to the right, giving Merritt his confirmation. “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I used to have to breathe into a paper bag before every performance. We all got our things.” 

The kid hates appearing weak, this Merritt already knows, and this sudden reveal puts him in a vulnerable position. Though, he also understands that he’d never know this new factoid if the kid didn’t want it revealed. J. Daniel Atlas guards his secrets closer than his own life. 

Merritt decides that, if he stands any chance of keeping Daniel’s trust, he has to move onto a less threatening topic. 

“So where we going, Danno?” Silence again. He continues. “Okay, well you know I’ll find out eventually, right?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?” He catches Merritt with a quick smirk. “You should quit while you’re ahead.”

Merritt really laughs this time.

“I’m not Jack, kid. You’re gonna have to work harder than that to get rid of me.” 

They approach Grand Central Terminal. Its wide-eyed windows and ornate architecture glow under vibrate yellow spotlights and the usual roar of the crowd dulls due to the late hour. The backlit clock face reads just after four AM. A few people pour out of the stone building and Daniel stops just outside of the massive golden doors.

“Oh wait, hold onto this for me.” He pulls something from his back pocket and abruptly tosses it to Merritt with a playful wave.

The mentalist opens the leather wallet and finds a hundred bucks in cash along with some credit cards and a driver’s license with Harvey’s smug face on the front. When Merritt looks back up, Daniel has already disappeared into the building. 

“Shit.” 

Thinking quickly, he pulls a yellow Metro card and the cash from the wallet and tosses the rest in a trash can. He pushes past some drunk teenagers and enters the grand hall in full sprint, his clacking steps echoing against the Cathedral ceiling. Atlas’s black sweatshirt barely registers at the far end of the ballroom and disappears down an escalator. Merritt takes the moving stairs two at a time and swipes himself through a turnstile just in time to see Daniel boarding the train. He manages to jump on just before the doors close and hook onto a strap, his heart pounding. The train takes off with a screech and that’s when he spots Daniel leaning against a pole at the far end. They lock eyes, with Daniel shaking his head and looking away as Merritt approaches, his breathing heavy and rapid. They perch side by side in a vacant corner.

“You should really work on your cardio. How do you plan to outrun the FBI if you can barely keep up with an asthmatic magician?” 

“Well for starters.” Merritt raises a middle finger in Atlas’ direction. “And let’s not forget…” He raises the second one, earning a smile that brightens the showman’s chestnut eyes.

The train jerks to the first stop- 5th avenue- and Merritt’s shoulder touches Daniel’s. Daniel doesn’t pull away. He takes this as a good sign. Then comes an unexpected share from the young showman.

“I think I’m hungry.” 

“Good.” Daniel glares. Merritt grins. “What, you think you’re the only one who gets around the city? I happen to know a spectacular late -night establishment off Port Authority and our friend Harvey’s footing the bill.” 

Daniel nods hesitantly and adjusts his grip on the strap. “What the hell did you do to Harvey anyway?” 

Merritt snorts. “Good old Harvey was banging the babysitter. She was only sixteen. Sick old fuck. I made sure his wifey remembered every detail…and took a few hundred in cash for my trouble.” 

The train stops. The doors swing open with a loud clack. Cool air rushes in and Daniel gives a barely perceptible shiver. They close just as quickly, leaving the train car empty except for the two magicians. The youngest one sinks into the nearest orange seat and pulls another penny from his pocket. He rotates it between his fingers and hands absentmindedly. 

“I used to pick pockets when I lived on the street. Rich-looking guys and tourists mostly.” Big blue eyes look up briefly. Merritt guides himself from strap to strap until he stands in front of the seated showman, fascinated by this new round of storytelling. “Once I targeted this Wallstreet dickhead. I went for his wallet, back pants pocket, and his cell phone vibrated at the same time. Gave me away.” 

Merritt takes the seat across the aisle, watching the young man intently for his next reveal. Instead, the train slams to a halt and the doors pop open at 42nd Port Authority. Daniel pushes past Merritt wordlessly and bounds out the doors. Merritt follows the black sweatshirt into the nearly abandoned underground station. They are almost at the 8th avenue stairwell when he finally asks.

“Well, what the hell happened?”

Daniel winces, as if recalling a painful memory. He leads into his response with a strong swallow. 

“I still got the wallet, just took the long way around.” He scales the stairs quickly and waits at the top for Merritt to catch up. They stand idle for a moment and Merritt savors the hanging silence. “So, food?” 

He thrusts his hands into his pockets and laughs at this change of roles. 

“Oh, so you’re ready to follow old Merritt now, huh? All it takes is a meal ticket to get the great showman to give up the driver’s seat, good to know.” Daniel snorted and looks to the sky. Merritt claps him on the shoulder lightly. “Follow the leader, Danny-boy.” 

“Yea, stick with that, old man. Sure.” They start walking beneath a lightening sky. Traffic buzzes by, horns honking every few seconds. The young showman stays close to his side, casting casual glances in his direction. “That is one creepy smile, Merritt. You’re loving this aren’t you?” 

The mentalist cackles. 

“That’s great. Actually, it’s…it’s nice, you know, not having to be the leader for a few minutes. It’s not like I don’t know where we are anyway. I could navigate this city blindfolded. In fact, I have. Got a lot of tips for that one.” 

“Yea, stick with that, kid.” Merritt parrots, exchanging a knowing look with Daniel. 

They stop at the end of the second block in front of a massive white sign with yellow blocked letters. 

GRAY’S PAPAYA

Daniel laughs a real honest laugh, warming Merritt’s chilled body, and he dares to place a friendly arm around the kid’s shoulders. This time, he doesn’t flinch at all. 

“See, sometimes you just gotta have a little faith Danny-boy.” 

“That’s…that’s good advice, Merritt.” Daniel hooks his gaze with something edging on sentimentality. “You should take it.” 

Daniel ducks out of their huddle with a quick evasive movement. He fixes his hair as he speaks. 

“We should get them to go, though. We’ll be late.” 

Merritt raises his eyebrows. “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me what for.” 

The showman backs towards the food stand. He takes his penny out again and flips it with a carefully concealed secret hidden beneath a cocky grin. 

“You wanted to know where I go at night, right? Solve your enigma?” He wiggles his fingers, the coin trapped in his palm. “Then we’ve got somewhere to be and about an hour to get there.” 

The lights of Times Square create rainbows in the gray sky as the two Horsemen duck under the large red sign reading SUBWAY carrying a bag of hotdogs and two papaya juices. They each hop the turnstiles this time and follow the long white and blue tiled corridor to the 1 train. Hiding in the far corner of the car, they stuff the dogs in their mouths in comfortable silence and Merritt watches Daniel closely for any tells. 

“Any last hints for me?”

The young magician only stares contentedly out of the plexiglass window. A unique spark hovers in his otherwise calm eyes. His entire body relaxes in acceptance of something Merritt cannot yet understand. When he speaks, it’s with gentle pressure. 

“I’ve given you hints all night, Merritt. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice. Still, you haven’t given up on chasing me which tells me that you want to see something new and better and that you believe you can find that with me. How am I doing?” 

“Not bad, for an amateur.” Merritt lowers himself into the neighboring seat and sighs. “Yea well what if all that “new” and “better” still leads back to a prison uniform and a roommate named Petey?”

The kid turns his attention to the older magician, his expression unwavering and serious.

“It won’t because I have a plan and it’s going to work.” He smiled. “Just trust me, Merritt, like you have tonight.” 

Twenty-five minutes pass in companionable silence. Daniel finally rises at the announcement of Chambers Street Station. Merritt follows without question, surrendering his leadership role with only mild hesitation. They stroll rather quickly for about a half mile, Daniel remaining disturbingly quiet. As they pass the World Trade Center sight Daniel grows increasingly stiff. His hands wiggle in his pockets and his chest rises visibly against the early morning chill. After a few moments of this, Merritt steps in. 

“Danny, you alright?” 

He shrugs and takes a deep halting inhale at the entrance to North Cove Marina. His breaths come in short gasps then, leading to him staggering towards a wooden fence for support. Merritt takes the young showman harshly by the shoulders and forces him to stand up straight. 

“What’s going on? What can I do?” The kid just shakes his head and pats down his sweatshirt. Merritt grips Daniel by the back of his head, touches their foreheads together, and forces eye contact. Calming gray eyes find panicked blue and suddenly he understands exactly why they’re at the docks.

He unzips Daniel’s sweatshirt, frantically searches for that hidden pocket from the pharmacy, and pulls out the small red and white inhaler. He shakes it, removes the cap, and practically shoves it into the kid’s mouth. Daniel does the rest, pressing the button and breathing deeply three times. 

“There ya go, just breathe. You’re okay.”

Merritt continues palming the kid’s head until he relaxes completely. Slowly, he breaks contact and steps back to give the showman some space. Looking around, he notices people staggering down one of the docks to join a larger group bordering the Hudson. It all sinks in then, leaving Merritt with a rush of cool relief coupled with confusion. 

“So, we’re performing then?” 

Daniel shrugs and gifts a crooked smile. “Surprise?”

Merritt looks all the way down the marina to a largely unusual crowd milling about near the water. Most appear homeless, others just kids still drunk from a long night out. They all cheer as the night sky turns from gray to a mixture of purples and reds as the sun pushes closer to the horizon. 

“You planned this show all by yourself?” 

Daniel shrugs, stashes his inhaler, and tests his shaky legs with a couple paces. 

“Sort of. It’s not really a show, though. I don’t take money. It’s just for fun.” He glances at the teenagers and young adults who clearly had nowhere else to go at this early hour. “To make them smile, I guess, and to bring a little magic back into the city.” 

Merritt shakes his head, genuinely impressed. “Atlas, I can confidently say that this is the last thing I expected of you.” 

“Always look the other way.” He peers tentatively at the dock and then looks up at the mentalist. “I rigged everything the other night.” A small remote control emerges from his pocket and transfers to Merritt’s hand from Daniel’s. “All we have to do is introduce ourselves and make two suns rise instead of one. Easy, right?”

Merritt grins. He knows the trick. He and Atlas have discussed the various ways of faking a sundog for months. Now, the showman has done it and, Merritt suspects, his motivations have not been at all selfish. 

“You knew I’d follow you tonight, didn’t you? You led me here. You set this up as much for me as you did for them.”

“Harvey was a fun surprise, though.” He smirks and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I knew you were getting restless, Merritt, and we can’t do this without you. We’re not the Horsemen without you. I need you to balance me out, to give me shit, to keep me on my toes and if you can do that, then I promise I’ll construct a foolproof plan and we will be legends.” 

Merritt’s chest tightens with a stab of emotion. The thought that this kid would go to so much trouble to keep him around makes him think twice about everything. He begins to feel something he hasn’t experienced in years, not since his brother betrayed him and sent him to his own personal hell, kinship. 

“So, are you still in?”

The answer is so obvious that he cannot believe it’s taken him this long to see it. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Daniel.” Merritt grabs the kid by the back of the neck and pulls him in for a brotherly hug. He smiles so hard that his face hurts. “Thank you.”

They strut towards the edge of the pier to a cheering crowd. The showman’s voice carries as he introduces the world-renowned mentalist, and his very good friend, Merritt McKinney. Just as the orange light slides over the horizon Merritt presses the remote control and triggers the machine that puts a second orange ball to the right of the first.

Two suns come up that day to cheers from a very elite crowd and Merritt McKinney finally finds his own place amongst the stars.


End file.
